If I was to celebrate you, I would hold a party in the sky.
Invitations would be delivered by fire flies.
You would arrive on a golden goat with your name emblazoned on its coat.
You would be serenaded by a thousand orca whales, their tails plucking the strings of harps, carved into the shape of hearts.
Your dress made by mermaids from blue lace, sleeves of silk sit on your milky skin.
A field mouse would place a neon crown upon your head.
Your entrance lit by trillions of luminesce creatures from the seabed.
Inside, Flora and fauna would fill every corner of the room.
Standing zebras make stripes and ribboned kites fly free.
Raspberry canes line the walls, heavy and tall with berries to eat, making the scene complete.
Sloths in trees that would slowly take your coat.
A moat of liquid chocolate surrounds a dance floor made of a giant custard cream.
I dream of dancing with you.
Penguins would wait tables shuffling with buckets of ice, slices of lemon, fine wine and free-flowing champagne.
Suspended rain clouds releasing sweets on the crowds below.
Light shows by glow-worms take turns with dancing swans, performing ballet on miniature ponds.
The dinner, served in the moonlight.
The delight of sandwiches stuffed with fish fingers and mayonnaise.
Eaten whilst a giraffe in a silver scarf plays the piano.
A font of yoghurt, fruit and honey dished out by baby bunnies.
Chocolate macaroons handed round by tuxedoed raccoons.
A dolphin DJ plays 80s tunes, whilst flamingo float around the room on pink balloons.
Cheering cheetahs and clapping seals give after dinner speeches that recognise your talent and wonder.
It would carry on longer than a week, and before we go it would end with a slow dance.
I see the smile on your face as we embrace.
The only thing worth partying for, which I should appreciate more, is you.
My love, whom I cannot wait to celebrate.